


Mind Your Head, I've Lost My Mind

by NyannSilverdream



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: ??????? - Freeform, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Sexual Abuse, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 19:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17607584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyannSilverdream/pseuds/NyannSilverdream
Summary: At age seven, Peter was taken from his dads right under their noses.At age twelve, he began rebelling.At age fourteen, he began losing hope.At age fifteen, he was broken.At age sixteen, he almost joined them.And then the Avengers came.





	Mind Your Head, I've Lost My Mind

“You fool.” Peter’s head snapped sideways with the force of the blow. He coughed and spit blood onto the ground, smiling slightly before looking back up at the man who hit him. “How dare you speak back to my men like that, you ungrateful little shit.”

“Hey man, this has been a great talk. Are you gonna finish beating me or are you gonna let me go?” Peter snarked before bending over with a gag; the man drove his knee into the boy’s already bruised stomach and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. “There’s my answer I guess.” He muttered, wheezing heavily. He looked up and smiled at the man, sweetly with a hint of malice. “This has been, ah, productive; why don’t we take this to my office?” He quipped before being thrown onto the ground and kicked with a groan. Curse the iron soled shoes that all the men wore here.

“Take him back to his room.” The Man, as Peter called him - just The Man, nothing more unless he was feeling particularly witty - scoffed and spat on to the ground next to Peter. “Have him reflect in solitude for a few days, half ration.” Peter was hauled up by his arms and marched away, leaving him with spots in his eyes and an insult or two spinning in his brain.

The door slammed behind him and Peter bent over his knees, coughing and wheezing for a minute. “Pete!” Miles scrambled off of the small cot and over to Peter. “Hey man, let’s sit you down a minute.” The elder waved him off, straightening up and taking a deep breath. “You good? Did he think you were too sassy again?” The smaller boy, only fourteen, asked him. 

"Yeah, didn't like how I was talking to his men or something." Peter nodded, rubbing at his ribs. Whatever they had kept pumping the boys full of, it sped up their healing rates remarkably. "I only made one comment about how he'd like his mom to see what he was doing." Miles clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. "But yeah, I got beat to hell earlier so they went easy on me. Thankfully."

"Good. You get hurt way too often, Peter. You need to learn to tone it down." Miles advised him, going back to sit on the cot. Peter joined him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"The more they hurt and focus on me, the less they will on you." Peter muttered to the smaller boy, looking at him from the corner of his eye. Miles scratched at his arm and shrugged. 

"It doesn't stop them from taking pictures of me." He said softly, prompting Peter to hiss slightly and hug the boy tightly. "I don't want them too, but they don't hurt me."

Peter wouldn't deny it; Miles was incredibly good looking for his age. That didn't mean he wanted him to be exposed and sold off to people just because of that. He was like a brother to Peter - someone he had to protect and make sure he wasn't hurt. "Hey, its okay buddy, it'll stop soon and then they'll let us go." No they wouldn't. The boys knew too much. Peter had already given up hope that he'd be let go free but that didn't mean he had to bring Miles down with him too. "Seriously, my dads are going to come for us soon."

"You don't have to act happy on my account, Peter. I know you don't think they're coming and its okay." Miles looked up at Peter and smiled lightly. "I don't think they'll be coming anyways - it's been nine years since you've been here and five for me, if they were coming they'd be here by now." 

Peter swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Yeah." He agreed, sighing and running his hand over Miles' head. "Let's just try and sleep, okay? I know you didn't get much last night and I haven't in a while."

"Okay." Miles agreed, pulling his thin jacket around his body and leaning against the pillow, eyes shutting softly as his breaths evened out slightly. Peter stared up at the ceiling and huffed out a breath, leaning against the wall and letting his eyes shut. Vaguely it registered that it was his birthday - he'd seen a calendar that read October 12. He was sixteen. It had been nine years and he'd be kidding himself if anyone was ever going to save him and Miles.

* * *

"Damn it!" Tony yelled, swiping yet another laptop off of his desk and burying his face in his hands. "Damn it, we were so close!" He breathed out shakily and felt someone wrap a blanket around his shoulders, set a cup of coffee in front of him, pull up a chair to the desk. Tony looked through his fingers and saw Stephen sit, wearing an old MIT sweatshirt and reading glasses. The sorcerer set a hand on Tony's shoulder and gently lowered his hands. "I was so close to finding Peter, Stephen." The billionaire said in a small voice. "I was so close." 

"I know Tony." Stephen replied softly. "I know you were." 

"He's sixteen today, he's been missing for nine years and I haven't found him." Tony felt more than saw Stephen lean over to brush away some tears he hadn't known were falling. "Nine years, Stephen, he's missed nine birthdays and nine years of school and he didn't see any of our new progress and the team and he didn't meet Wanda and Pietro and-"

"Tony." Stephen told him, covering his mouth with a hand. "You're doing your best, I know that you are and I know that if anyone can find him it's you." 

Tony opened his mouth but was stopped with a soft kiss from his husband. "You're Tony fucking Stark, you will find him. I know it." 

"It's not just that I can't find him," Tony started. "It's that the rest of the team aren't trying anymore. They don't care, even Bruce told me that it might be time for me to give up. Bruce! Told me to give up!" His voice was rising steadily. "I can't give up, Stephen, this is my son who's missing and I've failed every time I try to find him! I've failed as a parent! How do you lose your own kid, for fuck's sake!" He stood up and started to pace around the lab. "I just want my son back, I want my son to grow up and go to school and remember his parents and family and I want my fucking son back!" His voice broke and he stopped pacing long enough to wipe a hand down his face. "I miss my son." 

"Tony," Stephen whispered, standing up. "I know you do, I miss him too. I miss him so much and I know you want to find him. I want to find him too, you know I do." Tony looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "The whole team just wants you to be happy, and if it takes letting Peter go then-"

"Oh, so now you're telling me to give up too?" Tony scoffed, stepping away from Stephen. "Peter is our son, Stephen, our son. He's been kidnapped and I know he's alive, I don't need you to give up on me as well." He glared at his husband and dropped his hands to his side. "I'm going for a fly, I'll be back later." He turned on his heel and stalked out of the lab, stepping onto the balcony and letting his suit form around him before he took off.

"Mr Stark, you have an incoming call from Director Fury." FRIDAY said inside his suit. Tony scoffed but answered the call anyway, landing on a rooftop overlooking the city. 

"Stark." That. . . wasn't Fury. He didn't recognize the voice, how did he get this number? Tony had it on lockdown and untraceable. "I have my ways of finding these things." Oh, he must have said that out loud. The number part. "You know," The man laughed lightly. "Your boy, Peter. I can tell he's yours, I almost have to rip his mouth off on a daily."

"I-I- You, what?" Tony paled, his breathing getting laboured. "My son? You have Peter? Where is he? You son of a bitch, where the hell is my son!?" 

"Mr Stark, you seem to be having an anxiety attack. I am alerting Captain Rogers and Stephen." FRIDAY told Tony before going silent. 

"Yes, I have your son. He's quite the test subject, him and that little boy Miles that we have." The man had a smooth voice as he talked, even and soft. "My men agree that they're quite fun to play with, so eager and willing to play. Peter especially, the boy is even more willing to play with others than you are, my dear Mister Stark."

"You sick fuck." Tony spat. "Where the fuck is my son you asshole? I'll come over there and blow your face off myself, just tell me where my son is!" 

"Mr Stark, you have an incoming call from Captain Rogers." FRIDAY informed him.

"Don't answer FRIDAY." Tony muttered. "Alright you asshole, I'm gonna give you one more chance before I have the best assassins in the world track you down, make you tell me where my son is, and then kill you."

"Tch tch, Tony. Are you sure you'd do that? I mean," the man laughed. "He's been right under your nose this entire time, you've taken tours of where he's being held for god's sake. It's been nine years, you'd surely have found him by now if you were trying. Are you even trying to find him? You were just here the other day, you know. You could have seen him, even saved him."

Tony bristled at his words. "The hell are you implying? That I'm a bad father? I've been trying for years to find Peter, you're the asshole who took him from me! FRIDAY, end call." The call ended with a laugh from the other end. "FRIDAY, I need an emergency trace on that number."

"Yes, sir." FRIDAY replied as Tony took off towards the tower again. 

"Tony, where have you been?" Steve greeted him as he walked into the lab again, his suit folding back into the cabinet where it was kept. "You just disappeared after blowing up on Stephen, and you didn't accept my call after FRIDAY alerted us to a panic attack? What's going on with you?"

"FRIDAY, did you finish that trace? Pull up a map." Tony ignored Steve, opening his computer and pulling up a few documents. "And bring the team into the conference room for a meeting, asap."

"Tony." Steve said sternly, walking over and shutting the computer. "Talk to me, what's going on? I'm worried."

"Someone contacted me and said he has Peter." Tony reopened the computer and continued typing furiously, muttering under his breath as his eyes scanned the screen intently. "I had FRIDAY trace the call and send the coordinates to my computer. Now go get your fucking boyfriend and meet in the conference room in five." He scooped up the laptop and stalked out of the room. Someone had Peter - he would be damned if he didn't find his son soon.


End file.
